Shattered By Broken Dreams
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Pre-series and a bit AU of the Pilot episode. A tragic accident shatters Sam's dreams of going to college. Dean and John are there to pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

The familiar chords to Deep Purple's 'Smoke On The Water' trilled out in the silent motel room, waking Dean from a sound sleep.

Groaning, irritated at being woken up in the middle of the night, the hunter grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and peered blearily at the screen.

He didn't recognize the number shining out from the display and was just about to decline the call when he decided against it.

Maybe it's someone who needs help, he thought even though most people phoned his Dad's cell if they were dealing with a monster problem.

Pressing the green 'Accept' button, Dean brought the phone to his ear, glancing over at John snoring loudly in the bed next to his.

"Yeah?" he answered before the person on the other end could speak.

"Is this Dean Winchester?" a tired female voice asked.

"Uh huh," he replied, "What's up?"

"I'm calling to inform you that Sam Winchester has been involved in a serious car accident and is currently at El Camino Hospital."

Dean blinked, unsure if he'd heard the woman correctly.

"What?" he asked, "Sammy's in the hospital?"

"Yes," the woman replied calmly, probably used to having to call patient's family members in the middle of the night, "He is at El Camino Hospital in Mountain View. Are you close by?"

"Uh," Dean glanced again at his father, his heart rate increasing.

Sam was in the hospital. There had been some sort of accident. Sam was hurt.

"Don't worry about that," Dean told her, "We'll get there."

"All right, do you-" the woman began but Dean interrupted her.

"What happened? Is Sammy okay?" he demanded, his sharp tone waking his father.

"Dean? Who're you talking to?" John mumbled, peering blearily at his eldest son.

"All I can tell you right now is that he is in surgery," the woman told him.

"Surgery," Dean muttered out loud.

"Who's in surgery?" John asked, "Dean, what's going on? Who's on the phone?"

Dean, without speaking again to the woman, ended the call and stared across the darkened room at his father.

"Sammy's in trouble."

 _W_

They drove all night to reach Mountain View, California. They took the Impala, leaving John's truck in the parking lot of the motel. Dean insisted on driving and disregarded the posted speed limits, wanting nothing more than to reach his brother who now seemed so far away from him.

John badgered Dean with questions every ten minutes or so despite the fact that his eldest son knew no more than he did.

"I don't know, Dad! Okay? I don't know any more than you do!" Dean snapped, not taking his eyes off the road after an hour of John trying to get answers from Dean that his son did no have.

John remained silent for the rest of the trip to the hospital.

Just as the sun was rising above the horizon, red and gold, the two eldest Winchesters parked in the lot in front of the Emergency entrance to the El Camino hospital.

Shoving the keys to the Impala in his pocket, Dean strode across the asphalt and through the sliding glass doors in the plain brown, single-story building, John right on his heels.

The interior of the hospital was decorated in muted, calming colours. The floor was cream-coloured granite tiles, the walls painted a light grey, the front desk pale yellow interspersed with tiles in varying shades of blue.

Dean walked right up to the desk and peered over at the nurse dressed in lime green scrubs working away at a computer on the other side.

"Sam Winchester," Dean barked, "Where is he?"

The nurse looked up, nonplussed.

"Are you family?" she asked.

"I'm his brother," Dean told her, "And this is our Dad."

The nurse's gaze slid to the right to take in the eldest Winchester.

"Let me just check his status," she told them, "Please have a seat."

The last thing Dean wanted to do was to sit down and wait but John grabbed his arm and pulled him towards a row of connected chairs upholstered in brown fabric.

"Calm down, Dean," John muttered to him, "We won't be able to help Sam if we get kicked out."

Dean wanted to snap at his Dad and say that there was no way he could calm down when the woman on the phone had told him his little brother was in surgery but he kept his mouth shut. John was right. These people were helping his brother. He shouldn't be picking fights with them.

He just wanted to know what the hell had happened to his brother last night.

The nurse behind the desk caught his attention and both Dean and John stood up, making their way towards her.

"It looks like your brother left surgery early this morning and he's not in the ICU."

Dean's heart skipped a beat and his mouth suddenly seemed unbearably dry.

"Where's that?" John asked.

The nurse gave them directions and told them to check in with the staff there because a doctor would want to see them right away.

Dean and John looked at each other, both noticing fear in the other's eyes, but said nothing and followed the path described by the nurse to the Intensive Care Unit.

 _W_

Dean forced himself not to run down the hallways, telling himself that he needed to remain calm for Sam's sake.

Eventually they made it to the ICU. John approached the desk, which was very similar to the one in Emergency but that it was made of blonde pine.

"I'm Sam Winchester's father," John told the nurse, "We were told he was here."

Dean stood back and listened as his father talked. He glanced around the area, noting that it was empty except for a young man sleeping in a corner. He had dark, disheveled hair, and was wearing a brown sweater, blue jeans and dirty white sneakers. There was a bandage above his right eyebrow.

Dean looked up when his father approached him.

"Is Sam okay? What did the nurse say?" he asked John instantly.

"Sam's doctor is going to come and talk to us before we can go see him."

Dean took a deep, steadying breath and nodded, "Okay… yeah, that's all right."

The two hunters had just sat down on the light blue upholstered chairs- John sparing a curious glance at the young man in the corner- when a doctor stepped out from between a set of swinging double doors.

"Family of Sam Winchester?" he asked and the hunters nodded, introducing themselves.

"What happened?" John asked, "Dean said Sam was in a car accident."

The doctor nodded, "He was. The driver lost control and the car flipped over a number of times before heading into oncoming traffic and coming to a rest in a ditch at the side of the road."

"Is Sam okay?" Dean asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

The doctor peered at the young man in the corner of the waiting area and raised a hand, "Let's talk in privacy, shall we?"

As he shepherded the Winchesters towards the swinging double doors he paused to speak with the nurse.

"What's he still doing here?"

The nurse looked up, "He's not causing any trouble. He just wants to know that his friend is okay."

"Well that will be at the discretion of the family to let him know," the doctor commented stiffly, "But I want him gone by this afternoon, you hear me? The girl's parents are supposed to come today and I don't want him here when they arrive."

"Yes doctor," the nurse replied before returning to her work.

"What was that about?" Dean asked the doctor as they walked through the doors together.

The man, however, ignored him and steered them to a grey couch in what seemed like an antechamber to the ICU. There was also a table with a number of well-read magazines sitting on top of it, a coffee maker with paper cups, packets of sugar and milk in one corner and prints of flowers on the walls. Directly across from the swinging doors was a floor-to-ceiling wall of glass with a single door set into it; the Winchesters could not see into the room beyond because someone had drawn curtains to shield the view.

"Would you like anything? Coffee?" the doctor asked but both hunters shook their heads.

"We just want to know how Sam is," Dean insisted.

The doctor sighed and looked at the Winchesters, his expression grim.

"Sam is in serious condition," he explained, "He suffered a head injury in the crash, broken ribs, a broken leg and a punctured lung."

Dean felt as though the floor had suddenly vanished from beneath him and he sat down abruptly on the couch behind him.

"We have all of Sam's injuries taken care of," the doctor assured them, in layman's terms, "But our concern right now is the head trauma. It isn't the worst injury I've seen but it isn't simply a concussion either. We have given Sam something to relieve the pressure of his swelling brain but we won't know the extent of the damage until he wakes up."

"Can we see him?" Dean asked before the doctor could tell them any more.

"Of course," the doctor walked them to the door set into the glass wall and opened it, drawing the curtains away.

Sam was the only patient in the room. Surrounded by machines that beeped and whirred, he looked incredibly small.

Dean rushed to his little brother's side and brushed his siblings hair away from his brow, grimacing at the swelling and bruises on Sam's face. An oxygen mask obscured the lower half of his brother's face, the machine it attached to helping him breathe with his punctured lung.

John's approach was slowly, he seemed hesitant to go to his son's side but, when Dean looked up at him, he saw his father was staring at Sam.

He hasn't seen Sammy since he left for Stanford, Dean thought, nearly four years ago.

"Sammy," John spoke quietly, tears in his dark eyes. He came to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Dean and picked up his youngest son's hand, the one without the IV line in it.

Dean lowered his face close to his brother's and whispered, as though expecting Sam to answer.

"What happened last night?"

 _W_

Although they wanted to stay, they had been driving all night. Needing at least to get something to eat and drink, John and Dean left Sam, the younger hunter promising his brother they would return.

Stepping through the double doors, Dean noticed right away that the young man who had been snoozing in the corner was awake now and talking to the nurse behind the desk.

"Why not? I'm his friend!" the young man was saying, his tone almost frantic, "Can't you at least let me know how he's doing?"

"I'm sorry," the nurse responded calmly though with exasperation in her voice and Dean had the idea that she had gone over this with the young man before, "You are not family, you can't go in without permission from them."

As she spoke, the nurse's gaze found the two eldest Winchesters. The young man whipped around and he looked at them for a long moment before moving forward.

"You're Sam's family," he said, unquestioning.

"Uh yeah," Dean replied, John moving towards the coffee machine on the other side of the room, "Brady… Brady… Sam's friend."

The young man looked almost panicked. He stood wringing his hands together and staring hungrily into Dean's face.

"Is Sam okay? How badly is he hurt? Will he be coming back to school?"

Dean frowned at the younger man.

"Who did you say you were?"

"Brady," the kid responded, "Sam's friend from school. Didn't he tell you about me?"

"Sam hasn't talked to me in nearly four years," Dean snapped and turned his back on the boy.

The doors that led to the main part of the hospital opened and the doctor appeared, catching sight of Brady and glared at him.

"I thought you were told to leave?" he asked the kid.

"I just want to know if my friend's okay? What's wrong with that?" Brady responded becoming less twitchy and more angry.

"There is something wrong with that when you were driving the car that caused the accident," the doctor lost his composure and growled.

"What!?" John snapped, dropping his paper cup of coffee and splashing it all over the floor and his pants.

The elder Winchester ignored the mess on the floor and strode towards Brady, "You… You were driving when my son… what did you do?!"

"I lost control of the car! I couldn't do anything! I'm sorry!" Brady exclaimed, wringing his hands again.

"Doctor!" the nurse called over the noise, "Mr. and Mrs. Moore are here!"

"Oh not now," the doctor muttered and swept out of the room and into the hallway that led to the main part of the hospital.

"Were you drinking? Were you on drugs?" John growled at Brady, stalking closer and closer to him until he had the young man pinned against the nurse's desk.

"No! No, I wasn't, sir! Honest! The roads were wet! It had been raining earlier and the car slid-" Brady cried, raising his hands to protect himself because John looked about ready to punch him.

A wail of anguish stopped the young man mid-sentence and Dean took off out the doors to see what was wrong.

A middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair was grabbing the front of a grey-haired man who was undoubtedly her husband. He wrapped her arms around her as she cried and stared unbelievingly at the doctor who had just given her the news no parent ever wishes to receive.

"No, no, please," the woman sobbed into her husband's chest, "Not Jessica, not our daughter, please…"

The man murmured to his wife as the doctor told them how sorry he was for his loss.

The doctor turned and saw Dean.

"She was in the car with your brother," he told him quietly, "She didn't make it."

Before Dean and the doctor could enter the ICU waiting room, two uniformed security guards rushed through the doors ahead of them.

Oh shit, Dad what did you do? Dean thought as he entered the room, expecting to see John throwing punches but instead he saw Brady pinned against the nurse's desk, demanding to know what he'd done wrong.

"I just want to see my friend! I just want to know if he's okay! Why won't you tell me if he's okay?"

The two guards lifted the young man with ease and escorted him from the room, his voice echoing all the way down the hallway.

"I'm very sorry about that," the nurse told the Winchesters, "He's been hanging around since your son was brought in."

Neither hunter was thinking about food anymore and they returned to Sam's bedside, sitting on either side of their injured family member, speaking quietly.

"What happened out there?" John asked Dean, peering over his shoulder towards the door.

"I guess they had a girl with them in the car," Dean explained, "The doctor told her parents she had died."

John nodded and looked sadly at his youngest son.

Reaching out, the father took hold of his child's hand again and gently squeezed the fingers.

 _W_

Dean picked at his lukewarm macaroni and cheese disinterestedly, unable to force himself to eat. He just wasn't hungry. He couldn't stop thinking about his brother. What exactly had happened in that car the night before? Was that kid, Brady, telling the truth when he said the road had been slick? He'd seemed just a bit too twitchy to be telling the truth- or at least the whole truth.

John sat across from his eldest son at a small Formica-topped table in the hospital's café, a hamburger sitting uneaten in front of him, a steaming cup of coffee waiting patiently to impart its caffeine on the hunter.

"Let's go back," John suggested, picking up his coffee.

Dean didn't have to be asked twice; he stood and grabbed the can of Red Bull he had picked up from the vending machine in a corner of the café earlier.

As they returned to the ICU Sam's doctor met them in the waiting area.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked immediately, peering behind the man at the door to the room where his brother lay.

"While you were out, I did some quick tests and the swelling in Sam's brain has gone down dramatically since last night," the doctor told them with a thin smile, "I am keeping him on the medication until the swelling is down completely but I think he should be waking up soon."

Dean's eyes widened and he bustled past the doctor in his eagerness to see his brother awake and alert.

"Sammy!" Dean cried as he stepped into his sibling's room, expecting his brother to speak his name in response. Instead, Sam lay quiet and still, the only sounds were the beeping of the heart monitor, the dripping of the IV fluid into the line, the whoosh of the machine helping his brother breathe.

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see John standing behind him.

"We need to be patient," he murmured.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his short hair.

"I know, it's just…" he paused.

"I know," John agreed, "I missed him too."

 _W_

Something was touching Dean's face while he was trying to sleep. Irritated, he brushed the thing away and prepared to fall into the oblivion of slumber.

Again the thing started touching his face, his cheek, his forehead, gently, inquisitively almost.

Unable to sleep while this was going on, Dean opened his eyes and found himself looking into his brother's hazel ones.

"SAM!" Dean cried and sat straight up, his brother's hand falling back onto the blankets.

"Sammy!" Dean felt tears well up in his eyes, "Sam, you're awake, you're okay, you're awake."

Sam's eyes never left Dean's face but something was wrong, the older brother sensed it.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, "Hey, Sammy? You okay?"

Then, Dean saw it and his heart dropped. There was no recognition in his brother's gaze.

Wordlessly, Dean stood and walked to the door to Sam's room and looked out. There was a different nurse behind the desk this time and she looked up when she heard the door open.

"My brother's awake," Dean told her dully before stepping out into the waiting area.

"I'll get the doctor," the nurse told him and picked up a telephone.

Dean didn't know what to do. Sam didn't recognize him. He didn't know him; his big brother, the one who had been there to see his first steps, who'd potty trained him, who taught him how to drive… all of that was gone. Maybe forever.

The door to the ICU and John stepped inside, holding two large cups of coffee. He stopped when he saw Dean.

"Is everything okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sam's awake," Dean muttered.

The look of relief on his father's face was almost painful to witness but Dean continued anyway. Better to hear it from him than the doctor.

"Sam doesn't know me."

"What? What do you mean?" John asked, frowning. "Did you talk to him?"

Dean shook his head, "It was in his eyes… I could tell. He doesn't… doesn't know me…"

John offered one of the coffees to his eldest son, "It could be temporary. Or it could just be all the medications he's taking. Let's wait until the doctor gets here."

Dean took the offered beverage and took a large gulp, burning his tongue and not caring.

Moments later, the doctor did arrive and went straight into Sam's room, followed closely by John and Dean.

The doctor bent over Sam, shining a light in his eyes to test his pupils, asked him to squeeze his fingers as hard as he could, moved down to the end of the bed and asked the young man to point his toes to the sky and then press them against his hands like he was pressing down on a gas pedal.

"The tests weren't perfect but it's a good sign that Sam's able to understand my instructions," the doctor told them, "I'd like to take him and do some more tests now that he's awake."

"How long will that take?" John asked.

"A couple of hours," the doctor told them.

"Sam doesn't recognize me," Dean interrupted.

The doctor paused, "That could be a result of the medications-"

"I told you," John interjected.

"Or it could be a result of the brain trauma," the doctor continued as though he hadn't been interrupted, "But we won't know for certain until I've run some more tests and Sam's been awake for a while."

The father nodded, the coffee cup in his hand trembling slightly.

The doctor got the attention of the nurse and together they wheeled Sam out of the room, trailing the equipment behind them.

"Let's sit out here," John muttered and Dean followed him into the waiting area and dropped onto the grey couch.

"What the hell happened last night?" Dean asked out loud.

 _W_

When the doctor returned Sam to the ICU the young man was sleeping again.

"He still needs a lot of rest," the doctor explained when Dean asked if his brother was okay, "He'll likely only be awake for short periods of time before falling asleep again. This is completely normal."

"Did the tests tell you anything conclusive?" John asked.

"There is definitely going to be permanent damage," the doctor told them, "Though right now it doesn't look as widespread as we first thought. We will have a better gauge of exactly where Sam is once he's able to talk. I'm hoping to take the breathing tube out in a day or two."

John nodded, "Thank you for all your hard work, Doctor."

The man inclined his head and took his leave.

Dean was back at his brother's side, brushing Sam's hair back from his forehead.

"He'll be okay, Dean," John said as he sat down his voice cracking, "We'll make sure he's okay."

Dean looked up at his father; there were tears in John's dark eyes.

"What's wrong?" the young man ventured; neither of them were too fond of touchy-feely moments but here, in the quiet of the hospital room, with Sam as their only witness, they felt free to express the emotions they would usually keep pent up.

"I just…" John started and then stopped.

"I was so angry when he left," he continued, "I told myself that I didn't care if I ever saw him again."

"You didn't mean it," Dean assured him.

John shook his head, "No, that's just it. The more I thought about Sam leaving us- abandoning us- to go to college, the more I told myself that I didn't care to see him."

"Dad-" Dean began, but John interrupted.

"How could I think that?"

His eldest son had no response.

For a long moment Dean didn't say anything but then he looked up at his father.

"What if Sam goes back to Stanford? After this?"

John sighed, "That's his decision alone to make. I won't try and stop him. I won't say anything."

When Dean looked away, his father blotted his eyes on his sleeve.

"But I will keep in touch with him," John whispered, "Not like before."

Dean, who had not spoken to his brother since he had gone to school and felt less angry than hurt by Sam's departure, agreed. He would make it up to Sam this time, if he wanted to return to college, by being there as much as he could to support his brother in something he was passionate about.

 _W_

Sam woke up again a couple of hours after the doctor had finished his tests. He stared, wide-eyed at his father and brother, no recognition in his gaze.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean murmured, reaching out for his brother's hand, "We won't hurt you."

Although he may not remember Dean, the youngest Winchester seemed to trust his words and he closed his eyes again, falling back asleep quickly.

 _W_

Early the next morning, the doctor arrived to remove the breathing tube after the nurse told him that his patient had woken up in the middle of the night and had tried to pull it out.

John and Dean were in the hospital's café, forcing themselves to eat breakfast and returned to find Sam eating green Jell-O while the ICU nurse watched.

"Hey Sammy," Dean greeted, "it's good to see you without that mask over your face."

Sam looked up at his brother, the wheels turning in his head, struggling to make the connection. A blob of Jell-O fell off his spoon and onto the blanket on his lap. Sam peered down at the Jell-O, watching it roll down the blanket and onto the floor.

"That's okay," the nurse told him and grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand and bent to wipe up the spot on the floor.

Dean stepped up beside his brother, Sam still staring at him.

"Eat your Jell-O, Sammy," Dean encouraged.

The younger man wouldn't take his eyes off his brother, ignoring his Jell-O.

"Why don't I take that?" the nurse suggested but Sam pulled away from her.

"Okay," she responded calmly, then, looking at John, said, "I'll just be out here if you need me."

She left, returning to the desk in the waiting area.

Dean sat down in the nurse's vacated seat.

"C'mon Sam, finish your Jell-O."

The younger Winchester finally tore his gaze away from his brother and stared at the green blob in the bowl he was holding.

Dean watched as he brother, slowly, carefully, as though concentrating very hard, brought the spoon to his mouth.

John took a seat across from Dean and said nothing. Dean noticed his eyes were red.

Dean smiled at his brother and suddenly, as though by magic, Sam's eyes widened again and he cried out in a raspy voice.

"D'n!"

Dean could have cried, "Yeah, Sammy, its me."

"D'n!" Sam said again, completely forgetting about his Jell-O and flung himself forward to hug his brother, holding onto him as though for dear life.

Slowly, not wanting to startle his brother, Dean returned the embrace, feeling tears fill his eyes.

"I thought you didn't remember," he murmured.

"I… didn't…" Sam whispered, "I didn't and then… it all came back…"

Sam sat back and his gaze slid to the person sitting on his other side. He didn't say anything for a moment but then quietly intoned: "D-Dad?"

"Son," John murmured, his voice thick.

Before Sam could react, John reached out and grabbed him in a bear hug, only letting go when his son let out a whimper of pain.

"Y-You're n-not mad at me?" Sam asked, staring hopefully into John's face, puppy-dog eyes in full effect, "F-for leaving?"

John shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his beard.

Sam smiled and reached out hands, one for his brother and one for his father.

 _W_

"Short-term memory loss," the doctor told the Winchesters four days after Sam came to the hospital.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked, feeling dumb.

"It means that Sam will remember things from his childhood, he will remember you and your father, he'll remember certain important dates like his birthday, but he won't be able to remember what he ate for breakfast, maybe not even what he was doing a week ago."

"What does that mean if Sam wants to go back to school?" John asked.

The doctor took a deep breath, "I wouldn't recommend it. Since Sam's short-term memory is affected, it would be very difficult for him to study, to take exams, with any degree of success."

John and Dean looked at each other nervously.

Sam did not remember anything about the accident but was anxious to return to school.

"Okay," Dean muttered and added that to the list of things already piling up because of Sam's head injury.

The day he had woken up and recognized his brother and father he had experienced a series of seizures- terrifying to the elder Winchesters- but the nurses and doctor had been calm and given Sam an anti-convulsant as well as another round of tests to ensure the swelling in his brain was not back.

Sam's coordination was also affected by the damage to his brain and he constantly struggled to perform everyday tasks such as eating, dressing and even walking to the bathroom on his own. The doctor had given him a specialized boot, called an air cast, so that he would be able to walk with his broken ankle.

Entering Sam's room from the waiting room, Dean forced himself to smile. His brother was sitting up in bed, reading an old National Geographic magazine.

He put the book down and looked from his father to his brother.

"What's wrong?" he asked, "Did I forget something again?"

Dean shook his head, "No, Sammy, you're okay. But we, ah, have to talk to you about something important."

"What?" Sam had the same deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face as he had when he'd been told Jessica Moore had also been in the accident with him and had not survived. Dean, who didn't know Sam's relation to the girl, had been shocked when his brother started crying upon hearing of her death. Sam had been worried that she wouldn't know where he was, wondering why she hadn't been in to see him and had to be told the truth. Once Sam had gotten control of his emotions, he had told his father and brother that Jessica had been more than just a friend, but his girlfriend.

What struck Dean as odd though, was that Sam didn't ask where Brady was, if he was all right. Dean decided not to mention the kid to his brother.

"We have some bad news, son," John told him.

"What is it?" Sam asked, sitting up straighter, "Tell me!"

"The doctor doesn't think you should go back to school," John explained, "Because of your injuries."

"What?" Sam asked, his lip quivering.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean murmured and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

"No! I have to go back!" Sam cried, "I have to! I have… I have… something… important…"

The younger Winchester pressed his fists to either side of his head as he struggled to recall what he'd forgotten.

"Hey, hey!" Dean reached out and pulled his brother's hands down, "C'mon Sammy, don't do that."

"I have to go back," Sam said quietly, "I can't stay here."

"You won't be staying here," Dean told him, "You'll come with us."

The older brother smiled encouragingly.

The devastated look on his sibling's face wiped the grin from his own and he sighed sadly.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," he said and meant it.

 _W_

"Okay Sam," Dean told his brother sternly, struggling to keep his brother's attention, "I wrote everything down for you, okay? Dad and I won't be gone long."

"Okay," Sam replied, staring at the television playing in a corner of the motel room.

"Would you look at me?!" Dean snapped.

Sam tore his gaze away from the screen and looked at his brother, angry.

"I _am_ looking at you, Dean," he insisted.

"I wrote everything down for you," Dean told him, brandishing a sheaf of lined papers.

"C'mon Dean!" John called from the doorway.

"One second," Dean responded, glancing quickly over his shoulder.

"Don't leave this room, Sam," Dean told his brother, "I mean it. If you don't remember what to do, just read this."

"I know, Dean, I'm not a baby," Sam growled and grabbed the papers from him.

Dean nodded, "I know your not."

But Dean also didn't want to find his brother wandering around the parking lot of the motel room again because Sam had left the room and couldn't remember which one was theirs.

"If you need help, Bobby's number is here," Dean pointed to the top of the stack of papers to a phone number written in bold red pen.

Sam nodded, "Okay, Dean."

"We won't be long," Dean told him again and put a hand on the back of his brother's neck. Sam obediently bent his head forward and Dean kissed the top of his head.

"C'mon Dean," John called again.

"We'll be back before morning," Dean told his brother and Sam nodded, his attention already drawn back to the television.

Closing the motel room door and locking it, Dean let out a breath.

"He'll be okay, Dean," John put a hand on his eldest son's shoulder.

"I know he will, Dad," Dean glanced over his shoulder at the motel room as the approached the Impala, "I know he will."

 **Author's Note:**

 **Story title comes from a song by the band Avenged Sevenfold.**

 **This was longer than I intended but I couldn't shorten it any more. I am very happy with it and feel like I should explore the idea of short-term memory loss in the future. I work with elderly people, some of whom have short-term memory loss but it would be interesting to explore how that would affect a younger person.**

 **Please leave a review if you enjoyed this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Where are we going?" Sam asked for the fifteenth time since they'd left the diner and started driving. It had only been an hour and forty-five minutes but John was already getting tired of his youngest son's questions. Even though he knew Sam couldn't help it.

"Why don't you take one of your pills?" the hunter asked, through gritted teeth, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"I don't want to," Sam argued, "They make me too tired. I just want to know where we're going. Why won't you tell me?"

"We did tell you- oh, forget it," John growled.

"Here, Sammy," Dean opened the glove compartment, found a notepad and pen and scribbled down the answers to some of his brother's most asked questions.

"We're going to Red Mesa, Arizona," Dean told him as he handed the notepad to his sibling, "We didn't miss breakfast- you had pancakes- we're going to drive until lunch and then stop for something to eat."

Sam took the notepad from his brother and read the words printed on it.

"What are we hunting in Red Mesa?" Sam asked.

"Dad thinks it sounds like a chupacabra," Dean told his brother, glancing at John, his expression irritated.

We don't need to keep him drugged to the gills with clonazepam all the freaking time, Dean thought, especially when it snows the kid.

Sam already had enough medications to take as well as the anti-anxiety drug; he had an anti-convulsant, painkillers for his broken leg, and a sleep aid, just in case.

"Want to listen to some music?" Dean asked his brother.

"Sure," Sam replied, laying the notepad on the seat beside him and leaning forward to peer between the front seats.

Dean fiddled with the tuning dial until he found a rock station and turned up the volume.

Sam smiled at his brother as Metallica's 'Wherever I May Roam' began playing.

Dean grinned at his brother and began singing along to the lyrics, loudly and with gusto, making Sam laugh.

 _W_

"Sam, c'mon, look at the menu," Dean grabbed the top of the laminated menu sagging in his brother's lax grip and shook it.

"Oh," Sam tore his gaze away from the scene that had captured his attention- a tourist family with three kids who were climbing all over the booth they had settled in, crying and screaming, "Sorry."

"Focus, Sam," John muttered from behind his own menu.

Sam glanced down at his menu, reading through the options. He wasn't really hungry. In fact, he was certain they had just eaten breakfast.

"What are you going to get, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Sam replied, "Didn't we just eat breakfast? I had waffles, right?"

"We ate breakfast five hours ago," Dean reminded him, "And you had pancakes, not waffles."

"Is it really important what Sam ate?" John muttered.

Dean looked at their Dad, "If it helps him to remember, yes."

"He'll just forget in ten minutes, anyway," John said, taking a gulp of coffee.

"He's sitting right there," Dean hissed, worried his brother would be upset but no, Sam was watching those bratty kids again.

Reaching out, Dean snapped his fingers in front of his brother, "Hey, Major Tom, menu, come on. Pick what you want to eat."

"Oh, right," Sam mumbled and looked down at his menu.

Their waitress bustled over, looking relieved that she wasn't the one to have to deal with the obnoxious family of tourists- that task had been given to a harried looking waiter who stared daggers at the girl serving the Winchesters- and asked the hunters if they were ready to order.

"Can you give us a few more minutes?" Dean asked.

"Sure," she smiled.

"Can I have more coffee?" John asked and the waitress topped up his cup from the pot she was holding.

As soon as the girl had left, the Winchester patriarch leaned forwards toward his youngest son.

"Just pick something Sam," he ordered.

"I don't know what to get," Sam fretted, "I don't…"

He looked at Dean, "What do I like?"

For a moment his brother had to hold his alarm in check before he could answer.

"You like salad," Dean told him, "You were always a bit of a health nut."

"I don't want salad," Sam told him.

"How about a burger?"

Sam glanced at the offered burgers.

"I don't know…"

"Hey! They have grilled cheese sandwiches," Dean announced, pointing to the option on the menu, "You loved those as a kid."

Sam hesitated for a minute before nodding, "Okay, I'll get that."

When the waitress returned a few minutes later, the hunters gave her their orders. Once she was out of earshot, Dean asked his Dad about the case they were heading into.

"Do you want to interview witnesses first? Or go to the coroner's office?"

John had a drink of coffee before answering, "We should check out the victims first, make sure that it really is our thing and not just a rabid coyote or something of the sort."

Dean nodded, "We going as FBI?"

John shook his head, "I think EPA for this one."

"Do I have to stay in the motel room?" Sam interrupted, looking from his father to his brother expectantly.

Dean grimaced, "Yeah, Sammy. Sorry."

"Why can't I come with you? I won't say anything, I promise," he asked, "I'll wait in the car."

"Sammy," Dean began but John interrupted, "We've been over this; it's too dangerous for you to come hunting with us."

"You're not hunting," Sam argued, "You're going to the morgue. Why can't I go with you?"

"Because-" Dean began but John cut across him.

"Because you'll say something to blow our cover."

Sam sat back, a hurt expression on his face.

"No I won't," he said quietly, "I'll be quiet. You won't even know I'm there."

John sighed and stood up, "I've got to hit the head."

Dean moved out of the way so their father could slide out of the booth and stared at his brother. Wishing he could make Sam understand.

"Sammy," Dean began, "We're not trying to be mean. It's just… with your memory… we don't want-"

"You don't want me saying anything that will let civilians know you're not really EPA agents," Sam snapped.

"We know- Dad and I- know it's not your fault, but…" Dean hesitated. The waitress was approaching with their orders.

She set a bacon double cheeseburger in front of Dean, a Montreal smoked meat sandwich in front of John's vacated seat and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of Sam.

The youngest Winchester stared at his sandwich and fries wordlessly as Dean squirted ketchup all over his own fries.

Did I order this? Sam wondered, struggling to recall if he had or not. I don't remember asking for grilled cheese. But I must have.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean ventured.

Sam nodded and picked up a French fry.

John returned from the bathroom and climbed back into the booth. He said nothing to either of his sons but simply began eating as though nothing was wrong.

Sam picked at his lunch, nibbling on the fries and the edges of his sandwich.

"Aren't you going to eat more, Sammy?" Dean, who had polished off his fries and burger in a timely fashion, asked his brother.

"I'm not really hungry," Sam muttered.

"You have to have some food with your pills," Dean reminded hm.

Sam sighed; his brother was constantly reminding him about the anti-seizure pills he had to take three times a day.

"I did eat some," he assured Dean.

His brother nodded and fished around in his coat pockets before pulling out the small orange bottle of pills.

"Hold out your hand," Dean instructed and shook one small, white pill into his brother's palm.

Sam tipped the pill into his mouth before washing it down with a generous gulp of iced tea.

"Ready to go?" John asked, having watched the exchange silently.

"Sure," Dean said and stood up, giving his dad space to get out of the booth.

John fished some money out of his wallet and placed it on the table.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean reached out and shepherded his brother towards the door.

The Winchesters climbed into the Impala just as the tourist family was exiting the diner, the children streaking across the parking lot to a large red minivan parked nearby.

"Who are they?" Sam, almost pressing his nose against the glass, asked as he watched the kids scramble into the van and begin fighting each other over which seat they would sit in.

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean muttered as he settled into the front passenger's seat.

"Do up your seatbelt," he reminded his brother and Sam obediently latched the belt.

"We have two hours until we get to Red Mesa," John announced, looking pointedly at his youngest son in the rearview mirror, "Any questions?"

Sam shook his head, picking up a discarded NSRA magazine from the floor beside him and flipping through it.

John sighed, "Let's just get to our destination."

 _W_

"We won't be gone long, Sammy," Dean told his brother; trying to ignore the puppy-dog eyes he was giving him.

"I don't want to stay in the motel," Sam complained, "Why can't I come with you and Dad?"

"Because of your memory, Sammy," Dean replied gently, "But don't worry, we'll be back soon. We'll bring dinner with us, okay?"

Sam crossed his arms, letting Dean know that it wasn't okay.

"If I can't help you," Sam grumbled, "Than I should just go back to school."

Dean cringed, "Sammy, you can't do that either."

"But I want-" Sam began but John interrupted.

"The doctor said you can't go back to school," he snapped, "You'd only fail."

"Nicely put, Dad," Dean muttered under his breath.

"Stay here, okay? We won't be gone long and then we'll have some dinner and watch whatever you want on the TV, how does that sound?" Dean wheedled.

Sam glowered at his brother; that kind of bargaining may have worked when he was a snot-nosed kid, but it wasn't going to work now.

Sighing, Sam nodded, not wanting to fight with his brother.

"Okay, Dean," he acquiesced, "I'll wait here."

His brother smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll make it up to you, Sammy; won't we Dad?" Dean asked John.

Their father nodded and stepped outside.

After making Sam promise he would not leave the motel room, Dean followed his Dad out and climbed into the front passenger's seat of the Impala.

 _W_

"Who put that bug up your ass, Dad?" Dean asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"What are you talking about?" John muttered, eyes on the road.

"When Sam was in the hospital, you were acting like you actually gave a shit about him," Dean explained, "And now you seem like he's just a pain."

John glared at his son for a moment before sighing.

"I'm… I'm just frustrated," he admitted, "I didn't realize what it would be like once we left the hospital, Sam not remembering anything he did ten minutes ago, asking all his questions… it just gets tiring."

"Dad," Dean said, "It's only been a week. With Sam's memory all shot to hell, he's not going anywhere. He's going to have to stay with us for a long time."

"I know," John said, "That's what I'm afraid of. What if… What if I can't stand it… him… any longer and lose it?"

Dean frowned, "It's not his fault. That's what I tell myself. He's not doing it to be annoying or make you mad. He doesn't honestly remember things. He gets distracted easily now… he doesn't like being left alone."

John glanced at his eldest son, feeling bad for the way he'd been acting.

"I know," he sighed, "But we can't take him with us. It _is_ too dangerous for him."

Dean nodded, "I know. And I think Sam knows too but… he just wants to feel like he's helping and not being shoved to one side."

"What can we do, Dean? Make Sam feel useful without putting him in danger?"

His son shrugged, "I don't know, Dad. We'll have to think of something."

 _SPN_

Sam flipped through the television channels, restless, unable to focus his attention of a single show.

Leaving the channel on some children's cartoon, Sam looked around the motel room. It was cheap and old; the red carpet was worn away in patches where there was the most foot traffic, the wallpaper was peeling away from the walls, there were water stains on the ceiling, and the entire room smelled of stale cigarettes and mothballs.

Sam lay back on the dusty blankets on the bed, the springs in the mattress groaning in protest as he did so.

If I could only remember things better, Sam thought sadly, than I could help Dad and Dean on their hunt.

As the twenty-two year old lay staring at the popcorn ceiling, his stomach growled loudly.

Did I have lunch? Sam wondered and sat up. He was hungry so he must not have had lunch yet.

"Dean?" Sam called, "Dad?"

Where are they? He thought, not sure why he was alone in a strange motel room.

His stomach growled again and Sam looked for Dean's duffel bag. When they had been kids Dean usually kept candy or a chocolate bar in his bag for emergencies.

Grabbing Dean's duffel, Sam dug through it, only to find nothing but clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste and a porn magazine that had been shoved to the bottom.

Sam looked at the magazine for a moment before putting it back in the bag and standing up.

Motels usually had vending machines for guests. He could get something to eat and then wait in their room for his father and brother to return from wherever they had gone.

Checking that his wallet was in his pocket, Sam smiled and left the motel room, stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking around before spotting two vending machines at the far end of the building.

 _SPN_

"Definitely looks like a chupacabra," John told Dean as he pulled the white blanket back over the body of two-year old Lacey Garcia.

Dean nodded, feeling a little sick to his stomach. It was always difficult to work cases when little kids were involved.

"You all right?" John asked, pulling off a pair of latex gloves.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, "I just need some air."

They left the morgue, thanking the coroner for allowing them to view the bodies- along with little Lacey; a ninety-seven year old man had been killed in his backyard- before climbing back into the Impala.

"I can do this alone if I need to," John continued, "I can drop you off at the motel before going to interview the witnesses."

Dean shook his head, "I'm fine. Let's just get this done."

John put the key in the ignition and started the car.

 _SPN_

Sam leaned against the vending machine as he munched away on a bag of chips, trying to decide what he should get to drink.

He peered at the line of motel rooms that surrounded a pool that had seen better days; its chain-link fence high, its gate tightly padlocked, and suddenly couldn't remember which room was his.

Sam took a few steps forward, dropping the empty chip bag onto the ground. What number was their room?

Sam struggled to recall the correct one. He had simply forgotten; the information vanishing from his mind like smoke.

"Dean?" Sam called, "Dad?"

Oh yeah, they're gone, Sam remember, they're… somewhere…

How long did they say they'd be? Are they coming back?

Sam took a few more steps forward; peering hard at the doors to the motel rooms, as though he would suddenly recall which one was his.

Which one? Which one? Which one? The mantra circled his brain incessantly, ratcheting up his anxiety.

Which room was his? Why couldn't he remember? He needed to remember!

Sam brought his fists to the sides of his head, digging his knuckles in as though that would help him remember.

 _SPN_

Dean let his Dad do the questioning. His heart wasn't into it. He could barely look at little Lacey's father as he described how he had turned his back on her for only a couple of minutes when she had vanished.

"We searched for her all day," Ramon Garcia told them quietly, "All day."

"When did you find your daughter's body?" John asked, taking notes on the same notepad Dean had given Sam earlier that day.

"Just after sunset," Mr. Garcia told them, "She was in a neighbour's yard, just down the street from our house."

Dean glanced at his watch. This was taking longer than he had thought it was. He was anxious to get back to motel. Maybe he should have just had his Dad drop him off.

 _SPN_

Sam started shaking, his eyes darting around at the doors to the motel rooms that all looked the same.

"Dean," he groaned, "Dean, where are you?"

A door to his left opened and a woman exited. Sam lurched towards her. She would know where his room was!

The woman started for a moment and backed up.

"Are you okay?" she asked, nervously.

"I- I can't… I can't find which room is mine," Sam stammered, "I can't find it… I need to find it… please… help…"

The woman nodded, smiling widely, "Okay, sure, just let me… Um..."

She edged along the door to her motel room until she was out of arm's length of Sam before running towards the parking lot.

Sam just stared at her, shocked at what had just happened. Then, realizing he'd just terrified the woman, raised his fists again and started hitting the sides of his head.

 _SPN_

"Can you drop me off at the motel before we interview the next witness?" Dean asked as they left the home of Lacey Garcia's father.

"We're halfway done, Dean," John told him.

"I know but…" he hesitated before sighing, "I have a bad feeling."

"About Sam?" John asked.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I just think I should have stayed with him."

John sighed, "Okay, fine."

Dean felt slightly better now that they were heading back to the motel.

"Maybe next time you want to stay with Sam when a case comes up," John told him.

Dean opened his mouth to argue but then closed it.

"Yeah, maybe," he muttered.

 _W_

As soon as the motel came into sight, Dean knew instantly something was amiss.

The sun was setting but he could make out a figure crouched down against the chain-link fence of the defunct pool.

"Sam?" Dean spoke even before his dad had parked the car, "SAM!"

"Not again," John growled and stopped the car, climbing out.

"SAM!" he shouted.

The young man looked up at the sound of his name being called.

Dean flung open his door and dashed towards his sibling.

"Sammy! Sam!" he called as he reached his brother.

"What are you doing out here?" he grabbed his sibling by the arms and pulled him up into a standing position.

Sam was trembling all over, his eyes red and raw as though he had been crying. He hugged Dean tightly, his face pressed against his brother's shoulder.

"I got hungry," Sam's muffled reply came, "So I got something to eat and I… I… can't remember where to go."

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean soothed, stroking his brother's head, "Dad and I are here now."

"I'm still hungry," Sam muttered. Dean smiled.

"We'll get delivery," he told him, "Pizza, what do you say?"

Sam picked his head up and smiled at his brother, "I like pizza."

They walked slowly back to their motel room, Sam's shaking easing.

John gave his eldest son a pointed look but Dean ignored it. It was clear to him that Sam needed them, more than they had planned, but that was okay, because the first and most important rule John had taught Dean was to look after Sammy, keep him safe, and Dean was going to do just that.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks to mandancie, whatnosheep, firstcatfish, elliereynolds777, kandilyn, uNICOrnDIANGELO, reannablue, PriWinchester, Kas3y, and beatlefan for reviewing.**

 **EPA stands for Environmental Protection Agency. NSRA stands for National Street Rod Association.**

 **Please take a moment to leave a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean closed the door to the motel room and locked it before steering his brother to the bathroom so Sam could wipe his face.

Peering into the spotted mirror, the younger man frowned.

"What happened?" Sam asked, turning to look questioningly at his brother, "Was I crying? Why was I crying? Is Dad okay?"

Dean, grabbing a washcloth from the stack the motel provided, nodded, "Dad's fine, Sammy."

"What happened?" Sam repeated.

"You went outside and couldn't remember which room was ours," Dean explained as he wetted the cloth with cool water before handing it to his brother.

"I did?" Sam asked, holding the cloth tightly in one hand.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean muttered, "Wipe your face. You'll feel better."

Looking once more at his reflection in the mirror, frowning, Sam did as he was told.

"Dean!" Sam called, dropping the cloth into the sink, "I'm hungry!"

"I know! I'm gonna order us pizza!" Dean replied from the main room of their motel suite.

When Sam left the bathroom, his brother was talking on the phone to someone.

"Who was that?" Sam asked, sitting on the edge of one of the beds, "Was that Dad?"

"Just a pizza place," Dean replied and grabbed the TV remote and began flicking through the channels.

"What are we doing here?" Sam asked as he watched the channels change rapidly.

"Dad's working a case," Dean replied, stopping when he found an old action movie with Steven Seagal for them to watch.

"Oh okay," Sam muttered and his attention was caught by the movie.

 _W_

Half an hour later the pizza arrived. Dean grabbed two slices of veggie and anchovy and put them on a napkin, handing them to his brother before picking up a piece of his Meat Lovers'.

Just as they were about to dig into their dinner, the door to the motel room opens and John stepped inside.

"Right on time," Dean commented and pushed the box of Meat Lovers' pizza towards their father.

"How did it go?" Dean asked as John grabbed a slice of pizza, folded it in half and began eating it as though he hadn't seen food in days.

"The wife of the elderly man who was killed actually saw the monster that attacked her husband," John told him, wiping tomato sauce and grease from his mouth with his sleeve.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise; "What did she say it looked like?"

"Like a chupacabra," John replied before taking another bite of pizza.

Dean frowned, slightly perturbed that his father wasn't more forthcoming with information. John must have sensed his eldest son's mood because he responded.

"You wanted to come back to the motel. You didn't want to get involved with this one."

"If I hadn't come back," Dean hissed, "Sam would still be wandering around the parking lot!"

"Dean," John spoke sensibly, "Either you look after your brother or you hunt. You can't do both."

"I did both as a kid," his son muttered mutinously.

"Can I have more pizza?" Sam's voice spoke up, the younger sibling looking at the elder questioningly.

"Sure thing, Sammy," Dean replied, "You're the only one who likes anchovies anyway."

Sam smiled, "They're good. Salty and fishy."

Dean grimaced and pushed the pizza box closer to his brother.

"I'll stick with bacon, thanks," Dean told his brother before turning back to their Dad.

"What do you want me to do, then, Dad? Leave Sammy alone again? You saw what happens. I can't do that, not when he might get hurt or worse."

Dean's pizza was long forgotten, cold and congealing on his napkin.

"We need to figure something out," John replied, "Like I said earlier."

Dean sighed and picked up his slice of pizza. He wasn't sure what to do. He needed to protect his brother, keep him safe; but he also had the strong desire to keep other people safe too. He wanted to hunt with his father but he also wanted to stay at his brother's side.

Dean didn't say anything else to John about the unique problem posed by Sam's return to their family but instead watched the TV with his brother.

Once they were finished eating- with leftovers for the next day- Dean pulled his brother's pills from his pocket.

"Oh Dean," Sam groaned, "Not again."

"You have to take these three times a day, Sam, you know that," Dean admonished.

Sam sighed and allowed his brother to tip one of the pills into his open hand.

 _SPN_

Dean pulled a chair up to the small, wobbly table in the far corner of the motel room and stared pointedly at his father.

Sam was fast asleep, exhausted from his trying day, and hopefully wouldn't wake up to hear the conversation his brother and father were having.

"Is there any way we can involve Sam in cases without him getting hurt or-"

"Or getting our cover blown," John interrupted, "No, I don't think so. Even if we let him research, he's likely to forget what he's doing halfway through."

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"You can stay with him," John told him, "If you like. You've done it before when you were younger."

Dean shook his head. He didn't know what to do.

"I want to help you hunt down these bastards," Dean admitted, "Like we did when Sam was at Stanford."

"Than what do you think we should do?" John asked, playing Devil's advocate.

"I don't know," Dean muttered. He knew what he _should_ do: forget about hunting and look after his brother, but he knew that as much as he loved his sibling, he couldn't give up hunting, saving the innocent people who knew nothing about the monsters that went bump in the night.

"Let me sleep on it," Dean told John, "I'll think of something, okay?"

His father nodded and returned to writing in his journal, which he had been doing before Dean had come over.

Dean stood and stretched, making his way over to the bed where his brother was sleeping and laying down. Sam, still asleep, wriggled closer to the edge of the mattress to give his brother more room. Dean rolled over onto his back, put his hands beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling, thinking as he listened to the quiet sound of John scribbling in his journal and turning pages.

 _W_

Dean woke with a start at the sound of the room's door opening. Sitting up and looking around, he caught sight of his brother, fully dressed, duffel bag in hand, standing on the threshold.

"What are you doing?" he asked his younger sibling. It was still dark out and he could just make out the silhouette of his sibling against the orange glow of the lamps in the parking lot.

"I'm going back to school," Sam told him matter-of-factly.

Dean swore and stood, moving towards his brother.

"You can't," he told his brother and closed the door on him.

"Why not?" Sam asked, "I have to go back. Jess will be wondering where I am and-"

"Sam," Dean murmured, his tone gentle, "Jess… she's dead. She died in a car accident a couple of weeks ago. The same one you were in."

His brother looked at him in confusion for a moment, before snapping, "No! You're lying! You just don't want me to go back to school!"

Sam reached out and tried to open the door to the motel room but Dean put a hand on it.

"Sam," he tried again, "I'm not lying, I promise."

"You're just like Dad!" Sam growled, "Not wanting me to have my own life!"

Dean grimaced, hurt by his brother's accusations.

"That's not true, Sammy."

"Don't call me, Sammy!" Sam snapped, "Now let me go! I have to go back to school for something…"

Dean waited.

"Something important… I have to do something important!"

"You don't remember what it is, do you?" the older brother asked quietly.

"I do!" Sam growled, "I do remember."

"What is it then?"

Sam struggled, trying to recall the important thing that required him to be back at school. He knew it was going to happen after Halloween, but what was it? An exam?

"I have a test," Sam told his brother but without much conviction.

"Sam," Dean reached out and took his brother's arm, starting to steer him away from the door, "Let's go back to bed, it's the middle of the night."

Sam started to protest, started to struggle to return to the door, but then gave in and followed his brother towards the bed.

"Is it true, Dean? Is Jess really dead?" Sam whispered as Dean helped him out of his jacket.

"Yeah, Sammy," he murmured.

Dean closed his eyes as his brother started crying, his grief over the death of his girlfriend afresh.

Reaching out again, he grabbed Sam in a tight hug, feeling like a dick for having to tell him again that his girlfriend hadn't made it, and let his brother cry on his shoulder.

 _W_

Dean glanced down sadly at his brother curled up on the bed, still sniffing and whimpering, and sighed, raising his head to meet John's gaze.

We have to do something about this, the Winchester patriarch's expression said.

Dena nodded and lay down on the bed again, back-to-back with his brother and closed his eyes.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks to everyone who left a review on this story. Your support is always greatly appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Sam had forgotten all about trying to leave for school and being told that his girlfriend was dead. He mentioned neither the confrontation he had had with Dean, nor the outpouring of grief he had displayed.

Instead, he asked where they were, and what they were doing in town.

"Red Mesa," Dean told him automatically, as they waited for John to return with breakfast, "There's a Chupacabra here that we need to get rid of."

"Can I help?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed, hating that he had to go through this so often.

"No Sammy, I'm sorry. You have to stay here," Dean told him, trying to smile and failing.

The hurt expression on his brother's face makes Dean wish he could take his words back but he can't so he just waits silently for their father to return to the motel room.

 _W_

A short time later John steps into the motel room and drops a greasy fast food bag down on the table while balancing a drink tray in one hand.

"Did you decide what we're going to do?" John asked, handing his eldest son a paper cup of coffee.

"About what?" Sam asked, "What's Dad talking about?"

"Nothing, Sammy," Dean told him quickly, handing his brother his cup of coffee- in the hopes of distracting him with food- and taking another from the tray.

"We have to do something about you," John told his youngest, taking a sip of coffee.

Dean stared at their father in shock.

"What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?" Sam looked from his brother to his father, his expression confused.

"No, of course not," Dean assured him, "We just… well, we think it would be better if you didn't have to be shuttled from one motel room to another; we think you should have something more… stable… permanent."

As he spoke, Dean could tell that his words were going over his brother's head.

Sam's lip trembled and his eyes turned wet, "You don't want me. I got hurt and you don't want me anymore."

"Sammy, no, it's not like that at all," Dean reached out to put a hand on his brother's arm but Sam jerked out of his reach.

Dean turned to John, silently asking for help.

John, who was wolfing down a breakfast sandwich, swallowed and looked to Sam.

"It's too dangerous for you to be with us any longer," his father told him, waving the sandwich at him as he spoke, "We think you'd do better if you stayed in one place."

"I don't want to," Sam protested.

"You don't have a choice," John told him, "We can't take the risk."

Sam turned to his brother, his eyes large and moist, "Dean, please, I'll be good. I won't get into trouble, I promise. I'll stay in the room. I promise. Don't send me away."

Dean swallowed thickly. He knew they could have been a hell of a lot more tactful about this, but they couldn't take it back. What's done was done.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," he muttered, "It's for your safety."

For a moment Dean was sure his brother was going to start crying- he had been a lot more emotional than usual, ever since the accident and Dean supposed it was a result of the head injury- but he simply lowered his head, hair obscuring his face and didn't respond.

"Sam," Dean said, "Sammy, you going to eat some breakfast?"

His brother didn't look up, made no indication he'd even heard Dean.

"Leave him be," John told him through a mouthful of egg and sausage.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his father.

"What?" John asked, as though he had no idea why his son was angry.

"You could have not made it sound like we're gonna just dump him on the side of the road, you know?" Dean told him.

"We're not doing that," John said, "Besides, what's the use in sugar-coating things? It doesn't help."

Dean just shook his head.

"Here," John said and tossed a sandwich at his eldest son.

 _W_

After eating, John left again, this time to try and hunt down the Chupacabra. Dean decided to stay at the motel with his brother, make sure he was all right.

"Sammy, you have to eat so you can take your pills," Dean tried plying his sibling with a leftover breakfast sandwich.

Sam lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed.

"I don't want to," he muttered.

Dean wasn't sure if he meant he didn't want to eat or take his pills.

"Sam," Dean tried again, "Sammy, what Dad said was wrong."

"Then I can stay with you?" his brother asked hopefully.

Dean shook his head.

"No, Sammy," he told him, "We made a mistake. We should have taken you somewhere you could stay as soon as you left the hospital. We thought- we hoped- that we could make this work but we were wrong. It's too dangerous for you to come hunting with us or for you to stay by yourself in a motel room all day."

Dean spoke as gently as possible, thinking of finding Sam in the parking lot. He didn't want to go through that again.

"Can't you stay with me, like when we were kids?" Sam asked.

Dean forced himself to smile. A part of him wanted to say yes, that he would stay and look after his brother but another part, a larger, louder part, wanted to hunt, to gank every son of a bitch he could find.

"Dad needs my help," Dean told his brother, "Someone to watch his back, make sure he comes back in one piece, you know?"

Sam didn't say anything.

"You… You understand, right?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, still remaining silent. He understood all right. He understood that when it came for his brother to choose between him and their Dad, their Dad would win. It had happened in the past and it was happening now.

"So, are you going to eat that last breakfast sandwich?" Dean asked, as though nothing was wrong.

Sam shook his head. He watched as his brother grabbed the sandwich, unwrapped the greasy yellow paper from around it and took a large bite, washing it down with Sam's untouched coffee.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the previous chapters. Your continued support is greatly appreciated.**

 **Please take a moment to leave a review and I'll try and make a speedy update!**


	5. Chapter 5

Dean couldn't stand the silence in the room so he turned on the television, found a rerun of 'COPS' and planted his butt on the end of the bed closest to the screen.

Glancing to the side, he saw his younger brother was still sitting on his own bed, head bowed, hair covering his face. Peering at his watch, Dean sighed and stood.

"I'm gonna grab something from the vending machine, okay?" he told Sam, "You want anything?"

His brother made no indication he had even heard him.

"I'll bring you something back," Dean walked the short distance to the door, patted his pocket to make sure he had his wallet and pulled his boots on.

"You stay here," Dean told him as he opened the door, "I'll be back in two minutes, tops."

Stepping out the door, Dean paused for a second- the sun was beating down on the pavement, sending heat waves radiating upwards even though it wasn't even yet noon- and sighed. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he just hoped that they were doing the right thing. He trusted their Dad, was sure he had Sam's best interests at heart, but he could have not been such a dick about it.

Dean made his way slowly down the sidewalk, taking his time, figuring that Sam maybe needed some time alone.

Standing in front of the dusty vending machine, Dean slipped his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a couple of dollar bills. Slipping one of the notes into the machine, Dean pressed the corresponding letter and numbered buttons on the keypad to get a bag of barbeque-flavoured chips for himself. The bright red bag dropped down into the slot and Dean grabbed it before straightening up. He wasn't sure what Sam would want; he usually wasn't into junk food.

Maybe a Snickers bar would be good, Dean thought and pressed the buttons and waited for the candy to fall into the slot. The rings holding the chocolate moved aside and the bar fell forward before becoming caught against the glass and remaining there, suspended.

"Oh, come on," Dean grumbled and hit the glass of the vending machine with the flat of his palm. The candy bar jiggled but remained where it was.

Dean was about to put another dollar into the slot, thinking maybe a second Snickers bar would push the first out far enough to fall into the slot, when someone touched his shoulder and he jumped.

"Shit!"

He turned around to see his brother standing behind him.

"Sam! You scared me!" he said, "I didn't even hear you."

Sam didn't say anything for a moment. His head was bowed and his hair covered his face like a curtain.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

"I don't feel good, Dean."

"Okay," he replied, reaching out for his brother's arm. Sam let him take him by the elbow, "Let's go back to the room."

He guided his brother around and started down the sidewalk back to the motel room.

"I got you some chips," Dean told his brother and pressed the bag into his hands.

"Thanks," Sam muttered.

Once Dean had his brother safely back inside, he closed and locked the door before taking Sam's medications from his jacket pocket.

"Eat those and then you can take these," Dean told him.

 _SPN_

John returned after sunset. He barely looked at his sons as he stepped into the motel room and began peeling off his jacket, kicking off his boots.

"Did you kill it?" Dean asked, turning his attention to his father. Sam's gaze remained glued to the television.

John nodded.

"It was a bitch to find," he muttered, "But I got it in the end."

"I could have helped you, you know," Dean muttered, mostly just paying lip service, since he had chosen to stay with his brother today.

John shook his head, "Don't worry about it."

"We already ate," Dean told him, "Sorry. Sammy was hungry."

John noticed empty Chinese takeout containers sitting atop the pizza boxes from yesterday.

"I'm going to take a shower," he told Dean, "You should get to bed soon. I want to get an early start tomorrow."

His eldest son glanced over at his brother for a moment before speaking again.

"Do you know where we're going?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I have an old friend in Vermont," was all John said before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

 _SPN_

Sam, bless him, seemed to have forgotten that his brother and father were planning on dropping him off so they could continue hunting. He was happy that John had returned unscathed from the Chupacabra hunt- that Dean had to remind him of- and obediently went to bed when his older sibling suggested it. He was more than used to going to bed at a decent hour because they had to leave early the next morning.

Once Sam was asleep, Dean tried to get more information about who was in Vermont from John.

"Don't worry about it, Dean," his father told him, taking a tentative bite of a day-old slice of pizza, "I said it was a friend, not the bogeyman."

Dean frowned, "Does this friend know about Sam, though? The memory thing… all the pills he has to take?"

John waved the questions away.

"It'll be fine," he told his eldest son, "You should get some sleep too. I want to head out as soon as its light out."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Dad," Dean muttered, "For Sam's sake."

John didn't reply, he just took another bite of pizza.

 _W_

"Where are we going now?" Sam asked as soon as they were in the car. The sun hadn't even cleared the horizon yet but John insisted they leave.

"Vermont," John grumbled from the driver's seat as he got onto the I-44 East.

"What's in Vermont, Dad?" Sam wanted to know, "Another case?"

"No," John told him. Dean glanced at their Dad from the corner of his eye.

"We're going to visit an old friend of mine," he told his youngest, having seen Dean giving him the stink-eye.

"Do we know them?" Sam asked.

John sighed, "You boys haven't met him before."

"Can we get breakfast? I'm hungry," Sam announced.

 _W_

Dean stared at his brother's untouched plate of pancakes and then turned around to see if was coming out of the men's room.

They hadn't even left Red Mesa when John had stopped at a tiny diner for breakfast. He would have liked to keep going, get at least a few miles between the town and them but he knew Sam wouldn't shut up about breakfast until he'd eaten.

So here they were, scarfing down a sub-par breakfast and guzzling weak coffee, just to keep Sam happy.

"I'm gonna go check on him," Dean announced.

"Why?" John muttered, "He's an adult, Dean. I'm sure he's okay."

"Maybe he fell in," Dean joked humorlessly and stood, making his way towards the restrooms at the back of the diner.

"Sam? Sammy, you okay in there?" he pushed the swinging door to the men's room open and called for his brother.

"Dean?" Sam's voice called back and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

"You okay?"

"Um… yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Sam replied and stepped up to the door, his face beet red.

Dean tilted his head, "You sure?"

Sam nodded and glanced down, "I'm fine."

He made to step forward but his brother stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"No, what's wrong?"

Sam didn't look up but shook his head, "Don't worry about it."

"Let's sit back down, the food's probably cold," Sam tried but Dean wouldn't budge.

"Sam," he said.

"It's stupid," Sam muttered.

"What is?"

"I just… well, for a minute… I, um, forgot where I was…"

Dean frowned, "What do you mean?"

Sam still refused to look at him.

"I went into the bathroom," he muttered, "Did what I had to do and then I… just forgot… I didn't know where I was… I um…."

Dean waited.

"I heard your voice and it kind of snapped me out of it," Sam told him.

"You forgot we were in a diner," Dean said and Sam nodded.

"Yeah," his younger brother muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dean told him and moved out of the way.

They walked back to the booth together and sat down. Sam picked at his pancakes, clearly no longer hungry.

"Dean?" Sam asked, leaning over the table towards his brother, keeping his voice low.

"What is it Sammy?"

"Where are we?"

 _W_

This is a good thing; Dean told himself as they drove down the highway, this is the right thing.

Sam was sitting in the backseat, looking out the window. He'd been very quiet since they'd left the diner in Red Mesa, keeping any further questions to himself, it seemed.

Dean wanted his brother to ask questions, to talk, just so he could know what was going on in his head. He didn't know if he remembered _why_ they were going to Vermont but if he did, Sam certainly wasn't arguing about it.

Sighing, Dean turned on the radio to try and cut through the silence in the car and take his mind off things for a little while.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks to mandancie, Zeldalsis, jensensgirl3, lenail125, reannablue, elliereynolds777, TXKimsonFan, Mama's Stories, Kas3y, TweetyRulz, Mistycat and Guest for reviewing.**

 **Please take a minute to leave a review if you're enjoying the story!**


	6. Chapter 6

John Winchester let out an audible sigh when they finally arrived in Canaan, Vermont. Soon enough it would be just Dean and him again- like when Sam was at Stanford- and he wouldn't have to worry about his youngest son again.

Peering at the young man in the rearview mirror, John saw that Sam was still asleep, face tilted into his shoulder.

Dean had been reluctant but when they'd stopped for lunch, John had convinced him that they should give Sam at least a half a clonazepam to help with his anxiety. John knew Sam didn't want to be left behind but it was really for his own good. It was too dangerous for them to take Sam on hunts; he could get himself or them hurt or worse.

"We're almost there," John muttered to Dean.

His eldest son sat up straighter in his and peered over the bench seat at his brother, before reaching back.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, "Rise and shine, we're nearly there."

Sam lifted his head slowly. Dean saw his brother's eyes were unfocused- the drug making him groggy- and forced himself to smile.

"Where are we?" Sam mumbled as he sat up, brushing his bangs away from his face.

"Canaan, Vermont," Dean replied, turning back around.

"Why? Is there a case here?" Sam asked.

"I have a friend here," John said, "We're going to see him."

"You're going to stay with him for a little while, Sammy," Dean added.

"What?" Sam asked, "Why?"

John's jaw tightened and he glanced at Dean from the corner of his eye.

"We can't take you on hunts with us right now," Dean told his brother gently.

"I don't want to," Sam whined, "Don't make me."

"Sammy-" Dean began but John interrupted.

"You don't have a choice in the matter, Sam! You can't stay with us! You're staying here! End of story!"

Sam didn't say anything but John heard him sniffling in the backseat and Dean glared daggers at him.

"He's an adult, Dean," John growled, "I refuse to sugarcoat everything for him."

Sam wasn't a child anymore. He needed to realize he wouldn't always get what he wanted, head injury or no head injury. It was that very trauma that had landed them in this mess in the first place. If John had realized what his youngest son would be like as a result of the swelling in his brain following the accident, he would have driven him directly to a friend's place for safekeeping. Now, John wasn't going to be swayed by Sam's pouting. He was a danger to himself and a liability for them. There was no way they could keep him with them. He wished it didn't have to be like this; he wished he could have his youngest son with them but things didn't always turn out that way.

"It'll be okay," Dean was assuring his brother, "It'll be like when we used to sleep over at Bobby's place in Sioux Falls; you remember that, don't you?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted, "But Dean, you were with me."

"I know, Sammy," Dean agreed, "I'm sorry. We'll come back really soon, okay?"

John turned the Impala down an old residential road where the houses were quite spaced out from one another, old and rambling, many built just after the Second World War.

Dean peered out the window, watching the houses pass by. They looked mature, sturdy, safe. John pulled up to the curb of a house that was a little more decrepit than the others but still pleasant-looking. It had a large front lawn that needed a cutting and an overgrown garden where many of the flowers had gone to see. A sidewalk path cut through the yard and led to a porch with a white railing.

"This place doesn't look too bad, eh Sammy?" Dean asked but Sam didn't reply.

John climbed out of the car and stretched. They day had started out nice- bright and sunny- but now it was overcast, with a cold breeze. Without waiting for his sons, John zipped up his jacket and crossed the yard, walking up the porch and rapping on the door.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Dean was standing at the rear passenger's side of the Impala, speaking softly to his brother.

John returned his attention to the door when he heard footsteps approach and pause. He looked directly at the peephole he knew the other man was peering through.

The door was opened, revealing Rufus Turner scowling at him.

"What the hell do you want, Winchester?" the other hunter growled.

"I need a favour," John began but Rufus shook his head, "No way, I ain't doing you no favours no more."

"Oh come on," John ran a hand through his hair, "You're not still mad at me for what happened in Miami, are you?"

Rufus crossed his arms across his chest; "I should take a leaf outta Bobby Singer's book and fill you with buckshot."

John opened his mouth to reply when Dean's voice spoke from behind him.

"I thought you said he was a friend, Dad."

Rufus looked at John in disbelief, "Friend? We're not friends."

John sighed, "Listen, Rufus, I really need you to do this for me."

"What?" the other man growled, eyeing John suspiciously.

John took a step back and ushered his sons forward, "These are my sons, Dean and Sam. I need you to watch Sam for a little while."

Sam gazed at Rufus warily, one hand holding his duffle, the other holding onto Dean's arm, his finger white.

"I'm not a babysitting service, Winchester! Besides, the boy looks old enough to take care of himself!" Rufus argued.

John started backing up; "I'll let Dean explain it to you."

His eldest son turned to look at him, surprised that his father would put him in the position to drop Sam off when this had been John's idea in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized, speaking quickly before Rufus decided to go back inside, "But Sam can't hunt with us- he was in a car accident- he hit his head and has memory issues."

Rufus stared at Dean as though he were speaking Greek.

"I ain't doing this," he argued.

"C'mon, Dean!" John shouted, already sitting behind the wheel of the Impala, window rolled down.

"I know you might not like my Dad, but please," Dean begged, "We can't leave Sam on his own."

Rufus shook his head as Dean pried his brother's fingers off his arm.

John honked the Impala's horn, growing increasingly impatient.

Dean fished in the pockets of his coat and pulled out Sam's pills, "These ones are for seizures, these are for anxiety, and these ones are for pain…"

Rufus stared down at the orange plastic bottles Dean shoved into his hands and then back at the youngest Winchester.

"DEAN!" John shouted.

Dean paused, gave his brother a quick one-armed squeeze and jogged down the path to the boulevard. He could practically feel his brother's eyes boring into his back as he left him on Rufus Turner's porch. Dean pointedly avoided looking up at the house as he climbed into the car and John pulled away from the curb. At the end of the street, he chanced a look in the rear window but didn't see his brother.

"This is what's best for all of us," John told him, "It's what's best for Sam."

Dean sat back in his seat, "Than why do I feel like a piece of shit for leaving him?"

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thanks to sunbeamsam, jensensgirl3, reannablue, whatnosheep, nightrider67, elliereynolds777, Mama's Stories, maxandkiz, Kas3y, mandancie, TweetyRulz and Guests for reviewing.**

 **Please take a moment to leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter.**


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